


As It Dawns

by Yessica



Series: Whumptober 2020 Yessica Edition [22]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Presumed Dead, Romance, Whumptober 2020, asoiaf au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:20:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27181693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yessica/pseuds/Yessica
Summary: When a king is dead, the kingdom suffers.(Whumptober day 24 - Presumed dead)
Relationships: Matt/Tord (Eddsworld)
Series: Whumptober 2020 Yessica Edition [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949233
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	As It Dawns

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an ASOIAF AU I have but only ever talked about/wrote drabbles for on Tumblr. One day I'll get around to writing that epic fantasy story I crave, but for today, have a small offering instead.

As news spread of the king's death, the city fell into chaos.

There was word of it in the palace, though the guards had barred entrance to any civilians seeking an audience. Beggars died on the streets as riots broke out and an entire part of King's Landing was torn down by fires, the blaze claiming many more innocent lives. Matt could see down on the city from the balcony of his chambers, the plumes of smoke in the distance rising like beacons into the sky.

Guilt was at the forefront of his mind. His marriage to Tord had not endeared him in the people's eyes; and now with their king gone and no heir yet appointed, Matt had been given no choice but to step up as regent, only earning himself more disfavor. Where their union had been an advantageous move for many of the nobles, the commoners reeled at the prospect of having somebody not of the same blood as house Targaryen on the throne. If Matt had not been here, if he had just stayed at home in Highgarden, none of this might have happened.

And Tord might never have left in the first place.

The war had been a terrible idea from the very start. Matt had done his best to dissuade Tord, pleading for him to reconsider – to not act so hastily on his behalf. For the first time ever, Tord had looked at him with that merciless fire in his purple eyes so many of his enemies feared and told Matt he would fight for their honor. Matt had swallowed away the anxiety that stare had caused.

Tord became his betrothed when they were both nine years old, full of their boyish foolishness and a sense of invincibility not marred by age. And they had known each other for over a decade before the wedding took place on a day filled with blossoming peonies and laughter. In all that time Matt hadn't been scared for Tord even once, the son of the dragon, untouched and undaunted. But as Tord's lips pulled into a smirk revealing just the barest hint of incisor, his heart had skipped an unpleasant beat.

Standing on the parapet, he had watched the caravan as it left. Cart after cart of weapons and supplies, and Tord upfront on his horse, armor shining in the sunrise, surrounded by the white of the King's Guard. They had kissed before he left, a touch warm and private where nobody else could see. Tord has pressed his lips to Matt's ears and promised him he would fight for him and be back before he knew it.

But the city was burning, the screams of the townsfolk running rampant on the street as the rumor persisted that the king's squadron had run into an ambush. It was a quick death they told Matt, and he was sitting on the Iron Throne then because it was his duty but it cut in more ways than one. An arrow strike between the gorget and the helmet tore open his throat. Tord had died in a matter of minutes, choking on his own blood. Matt had taken in the details silently, feeling like he was a hundred miles away from his own body. After nodding once, he retired to his room and broke down.

He had screamed into his pillow, thrown the furniture into the wall in his grief. He had cursed The Seven and their grace for taking away the only thing that had made his life at court bearable. Then he had removed the outer layer of his garments, crawled into bed, and cried until exhaustion overwhelmed him and he couldn't stay awake anymore.

Three days had passed since then and they had appeared to Matt as having passed in a blur. He had a hard time concentrating on the finer logistics of running the kingdom, still too wrapped up in heartache to care for what would happen. For the most part, he stayed in the bedchamber he used to share with Tord and watched King's Landing fall to ruins beneath him. He didn't know what Tord would say if he were here – if he would be disappointed at Matt's inability to muster up the courage to keep it together in his absence.

But Tord was not coming back so he supposed it didn't matter.

A knock on the door disturbed him and Matt had half a mind to ignore it, but decided he could not make even more people suffer due to his sorrow. Opening it revealed a fairly new servant of his, a young lad barely of age with blonde hair and a narrow face. His eyes were wide as if he had just seen a ghost.

"L-Lord Mathius!" The boy did not use his official title as regent. "You need to come down quickly, the great hall." He cut off again, so stirred he couldn't properly string the words together. "The king, he's alive-"

Matt did not allow him to finish the sentence, already pushing past him to get into the hallway. He was not appropriately dressed, his loose-fitting tunic held close only with a cloth belt. His hair was a mess and he probably looked unkempt in all regards but all of that paled in importance compared with the news he had just received.

Tord was alive.

He rushed through the intricate maze of the Red Keep. The closer he got to the grand hall the more noises he could discern, an overlap of loud voices and hurried footsteps. Matt entered the hall just in time to see Paul trying to get Tord on his feet and Tord swatting at him with his hand. He ran over and sank on his knees at his husband's side.

"Tord- Talk to me." Cupping Tord's face in both hands, as if to assure himself he was still alive, felt like a rush of pure adrenaline running through him. Tord's armor was dented, scuffed from battle marks and there was blood streaked across his face, running out of the corner of his mouth. The arrow wound might have been fabricated, it was still clear _something_ had happened.

"Matt," Tord tried to say, then coughed horribly. Trying to push himself into a seating position proved fruitless.

"Glad your here." Paul put a hand on Matt's shoulder to catch his attention. His white armor looked similarly damaged as his king's. "This idiot won't listen to reason and is refusing medical help, maybe you can talk some sense into him."

"Just wanted to see you," Tord explained. His fingers roamed into Matt's hair, cradling the back of his neck. "I missed your freckles."

"Tord." Matt pressed their foreheads together, that familiar warmth flooding his sense. No matter how many times he blinked he could still feel tears overflowing in his eyes. It was a rare display of physical affection for them – certainly not very becoming of royalty. But right now Matt knew both of them just needed to be assured of the other's presence.

He pulled back after a few languid seconds, hand lingering on Tord's cheek. "Please let them take care of you?"

Tord closed his eyes and nodded. Paul sighed in exasperation but signaled for the court medics to come forward again. They had been standing anxiously by after being chased off by Tord's unwillingness to cooperate but sprung to work immediately after Paul's gesture.

Knowing they needed to have ample room to work, Matt reluctantly moved back. He couldn't stop staring at Tord, at every slow rise and fall of his chest in the plate armor. Paleness had overtaken his face and sweat beaded on his forehead, but the grin was still firmly in place.

With relief still fresh in his veins he turned around and addressed the crowd of nobles spread around the grand hall. "Let it be known that the king lives."

**Author's Note:**

> [my Tumblr](http://sharada-n.tumblr.com/)


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